


Behind His Smile Are All The Things You'll Never Understand

by Aelia_Gioia



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:36:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21585724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelia_Gioia/pseuds/Aelia_Gioia
Summary: Patrick sat on his bed and thought for a few minutes before he jumped up and went to the bathroom to shower.If David was going to go out and get laid then by God, so was he.OR: What happened the night Sebastien Raine came to Schitt's Creek.
Relationships: Sebastien Raine/David Rose, Twyla Sands & Patrick Brewer
Comments: 31
Kudos: 87
Collections: Schitt's Creek Open Fic Night 2.0





	Behind His Smile Are All The Things You'll Never Understand

David slammed the door shut behind him. The “Opening Soon” sign fell off the window and fluttered to the floor. He stepped over it and stomped into the back room. 

Patrick popped up from where he’d been squatting on the floor, stocking products on a low shelf. He bit his lip and wondered if it was prudent to go check on his business partner. 

He was still deciding when he heard a clattering noise and David swore loudly. 

“David?” He kept his body in the main room of the store and peeked his head into the back office/stock room area. David had knocked over a stack of folded empty boxes they, (specifically Patrick) hadn’t taken out to the dumpster yet. He was ignoring the mess on the floor and slapping the Rose Apothecary labels on jars of hand crème while muttering under his breath. 

“Everything alright?” Patrick rested his cheek against his knuckles as he held onto the door jamb. David startled at the sound of his voice. 

“Huh? What? Oh, it’s_ you__,_” he huffed. 

The sharpness of David’s tone cut him deeply and he sank back making no effort to hide the pained expression on his face. He nodded curtly and went back to what he’d been doing without another word. 

David covered his face with both hands and groaned. He moved a few boxes out of his way as he worked up the humility required to apologize to Patrick. Besides the fact the he recognized he’d just been an asshole to someone who did absolutely nothing to deserve it; the store, the bills, and the risk were all in his name. If Patrick decided to quit, taking his advanced business acumen and amazing grant-writing abilities with him, David would be in way over his head. 

Maybe Patrick was too sweet for this partnership. Too polite. Too soft. 

Or, maybe David needed learn how to redirect anger. 

He tucked his hands into his pockets when he slowly came out of the back room. He cleared his throat but Patrick didn’t look up. He wrapped his knuckles on the counter next to the cash. 

“Hey – um – I’m sorry.” 

Patrick kept his shoulders squared and didn’t turn around toward him. He twisted the cap off a bottle of pomegranate juice and took a long sip. 

“Ok, so you’re not going to make this easy for me,” he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before approaching. 

“Patrick, I’m really sorry. There’s a – um – a personal shitshow going on back at the motel and I’m _very _sorry that I snapped at you. Very, very sorry.” 

Patrick kept contemplatively quiet until David started to walk away. 

“What kind of shitshow?” He stood up and opened another box of product, still not looking towards him. 

“Well,” David sighed with relief since ‘what kind of shitshow’ invited him to reply whereas ‘go fuck yourself, David’ did not. He walked around the display table so he could see Patrick’s face. “My ex just blew into town and he wants to take pictures of my mother.” 

The residual hurt and anger on Patrick’s face was quickly replaced with bewilderment. He tilted his head and put a hand on his hip. 

“Ok…you're gonna need to back up and run that by me from the beginning, David.” 

They worked together unloading boxes while David explained his tumultuous three month relationship with _the _Sebastien Raine (not that Patrick had ever heard of him.) 

“And there was the time he ditched me in Nevis in the middle of what was supposed to be a romantic dinner to apologize for the last time he’d ditched me – because he heard there was a fire at a local village and he had to ‘capture the carnage’.” 

“Sounds like a really great boyfriend.” Patrick rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, he’s the worst. Well, maybe not _the _worst. Sadly, he’s actually pretty far from the worst person I’ve dated but…” 

Patrick’s facial expression was now touching the borders of pity, rage and sorrow. 

“So this morning, I found out he contacted my mother and apparently he’s here to do a photo series with her. On her.” 

“That sounds awkward.” Patrick palmed the last two jars and David carried the empty boxes to the back room. 

Some packing tape was stuck to the floor and Patrick couldn’t get his fingernails under it. He pulled out his pocket knife and got down on all fours as he tried scraping the tape up without damaging the hardwood floor. 

“_Anyway_, this weasel in hobo sweaters – oh! Oh.” David’s tennis shoes squeaked when he stopped in his tracks at the sight of Patrick on his hands and knees with his ass up in the air. 

“Hmm? What?” Patrick knelt up and twisted at the waist to look back at David. 

“No – nothing. Did you um, get new jeans?” 

Patrick looked down at his Old Navy sale rack jeans from three years ago. 

“Nope.” He smiled as he finally got his nail under the corner of the packing tape and pulled it up. He folded the knife to close it and slipped it into his back pocket. 

“Ah,” David nodded and tapped the toe of his shoe in the floor. 

“What are you going to do about Sebastien?” Patrick brushed his knees off when he stood up and stretched his arms above his head. 

“I don’t know that there’s anything to do,” he replied. Patrick was wearing a t-shirt that, from the way it clung to him, appeared to have shrunk in the dryer. David tried not to stare when it rode up and Patrick’s navel was exposed for half a second. 

“Are you more irritated by his general presence in town or do you think he’s up to something? Not 'up to something' like he’s going to try to have sex with your mother but…” 

It got quiet, it got awkward. Any upper hand Patrick had gained when he thought he might have caught David staring at his ass was lost. 

_ Smooth move, Brewer. _

“Yeah, I wasn’t worried about Sebastien trying to…” he paused, cleared his throat and gagged. “My mother. But he rarely does anything without an ulterior motive.” 

“He really did a number on you, huh?” Patrick started to reach his hand out to touch David’s arm but he panicked and turned it into an awkward-looking stretch. 

“Yes, he did. I – and as I say this it sounds much darker than it actually was – but when we broke up…when he unceremoniously dumped me, I had to go to therapy to learn how to smile again.” 

Patrick raised his brows. 

“It wasn’t as dramatic as it sounds,” David tried to back pedal but Patrick had clenched his jaw and two fists behind his back. He was not a violent man but he felt very ready to have a strongly-worded chat with Sebastien. 

“Really? Because that sounds pretty – “ 

“Sebastien convinced me that I didn’t want to smile. He said smiling made me look old and that people who smiled were faking being happy all the time. ‘True happiness comes from expression of pain’ is how he put it.” 

“That’s – “ 

“Crazy. I know.” 

“I was going to say ‘bullshit’ but…” 

David couldn’t remember if he’d heard Patrick curse before. It was like hearing a little kid swear; kind of cute and kind of naughty. 

“Yeah, I know. But it got to a point where I was just convinced that I shouldn’t smile. And _t__hen _there was the time he decided that I wanted him to see other guys while we were still together.” 

“I’m sorry, he…huh?” 

"_And _he did an entire photo series of me, sleeping. Without my knowledge. Or consent. He actually signed an exclusivity deal with a rival gallery in Chelsea for a show he called 'David Rose, Exposed'. Luckily, my father's lawyers shut it down before it opened. I got all the prints and the negatives and after we broke up, I burned them."

Patrick screwed up his face again. "He tried doing that show - pictures of you, naked, while you were still together?! Not that revenge porn is ok..."

_This guy has a set of giant brass balls that I'd really like to kick. _Patrick thought_._

David paused and the tips of his ears burned red.

"I didn't say I was naked in the pictures," he only just managed to hide a flirty smirk.

Patrick blanched and scrambled to recover.

"You said 'exposed', I guess that's where my mind went. Either way, taking pictures like that is fresh out of the Creepy Terrible Boyfriend Playbook. Trying to actually _monetize_ on them is taking it to another level."

“God, I can’t believe I was so dumb. But the _s__ex, _Patrick…” 

“Bad, huh?” He held out hope. 

“No, unfortunately he knows how to do two things very well; photography is one of them and –“ 

“You know David,” he interrupted before he threw up in his mouth. “I know this sounds simplistic but my mom says that the best revenge is doing better.” 

David considered what he’d said for a moment and the conversation ended there. It might have continued, but Patrick got a call from a distributor that he’d been waiting for and by the time he hung up, David was leaving to pick up some store “ambience enhancement” that had been held for him at the post office and he didn’t return before Patrick left for the day. 

Later that evening, David was sitting in his room. It was too early to go to bed and too late for any other activity that required leaving the motel. Patrick was sitting on his bed, listening to Pink Floyd and hacking away at a spreadsheet for another grant RFP when he got a message from David. 

_ I've been thinking about you. _

It made the hair on Patrick's forearms stand up. He fumbled with his phone to type his reply. 

** Have you? **

But before he could hit send, David wrote again. 

_ I mean I've been thinking about what you said earlier about Sebastien and the best revenge is doing better. I think you're right. Because I am in many ways doing better. _

Patrick smiled and knew he had to craft the perfect response. It’d have to be something he could say to David that would continue the conversation in a friendly way but also would not get himself immediately friend-zoned. He couldn't go over the top telling David how amazing he was. So he played it cool. 

** I'm really glad to hear you say ****that, David.**

Then he wrote the perfect follow-up. All he needed was David to say something, just about anything, and he was going to turn this night around. A stroke of inspiration hit him as he crafted his response. He tapped out the words “Do you want to get a drink with me?” 

He let his thumb hover over the send button so the moment David responded he could hit send and immediately get dressed to meet him at a bar. Hopefully after a couple of drinks, he’d loosen up enough to tell his business partner what he been waiting to tell him. Unfortunately, Patrick was met with a pregnant pause. He held out hope but as he reclined against his pillows, his thumb was cramping up. 

“I leaned in!” David’s mother yelled at him as she retreated to her room. 

David puffed-out a breath and thought to himself maybe it was his turn to lean in, too. He was hoping to engage Patrick in enough of a conversation that would lead to a late-night meet up for a drink but he couldn't get the idea of Sebastien Raine taking advantage of his mother at her most vulnerable point out of his head. It was then that he decided what he needed to do. Fuck being better. Sebastien was going low; David didn’t have it in him to go high. 

He lifted his phone off his lap and wrote back to Patrick. 

_ Change of plans, I have to go the other way. _

Patrick cocked his head at the response and deleted the question he had been waiting to ask. 

** What do you mean? **

_ It’s time for some revenge sex. _

Patrick sat up straight on his bed with his phone in his hand and discovered that he was holding his breath. 

Was this David's way of propositioning him? Not quite subtle, but maybe David was trying to take charge of the sexual tension that had been forming between them. He must have felt it too. They flirted _all_ day, every day. Patrick didn't think he'd ever flirted so shamelessly with anybody before.

It started when he refused to let David get away with any of his dry, sarcastic comments. That little smirk on David's face when Patrick volleyed with a thinly veiled flirty retort...he could just pin him against the stockroom wall and...no.

He wasn't sure that he was ready for that; he_ knew_ he wasn't ready for _that, _but even as his train of thought shifted to imagining what David’s mouth tasted like, what his cultivated stubble would feel like pressing against his cheek, what it might be like for Patrick to run his fingers through David’s chest hair, all the air was let out of his balloon when he read David's next text. 

_ Sebastien took pictures of my mother today. This is so fucked. He’s going to humiliate her. SO. I'm going next door and I'm going to give Sebastien the fuck of his life and then I'm going to show him what it's like to be used and cast aside._

Patrick was crestfallen. He started talking to himself out loud.

“What?! He just told me what a complete piece of crap this guy was and now they're going to have sex?!” 

His hands were shaking. He didn't know what to do, he just glared at his phone. 

_No, David don't have sex with him. Have sex with me! _he thought.

_Maybe not sex with me but...can we just, I don't know…can we go make out in my car? _

Feeling pathetic and inexperienced with his heart about to crumble, Patrick wrote back. 

** r u sure that's a good idea.**

David’s response didn't inspire confidence. 

_ Honestly no I'm not sure. _

Trying to be supportive of his friend whom he was falling harder for by the day, Patrick wrote: 

** at least get the memory card out of his camera. **

_That is a brilliant idea. Thanks Patrick. _

** ya have fun. **

Patrick didn't wait to see if David replied. He turned his phone off and chucked it into his laundry basket. He grabbed his drink and started pacing his room, wishing he was having something stronger than just flavored seltzer. The tinkling sound of ice cubes hitting the side of his glass was menacingly loud. 

Why couldn't he just tell David? Why couldn't he muster up the courage to tell David not to have sex with Sebastien? What if David and Sebastien got back together? Then he’d have to deal with the knowledge that the guy he had a crush on was dating someone who by all accounts was a complete douchebag. 

Patrick’s mind raced through an unthinkably terrible scenario. David and Sebastien got back together and Sebastien moved to Schitt’s Creek, forcing Patrick to endure his presence on a daily basis. Or, infinitesimally worse than that, what if David and Sebastien got back together and David left Schitt’s Creek, never to be seen from again. It was almost more than he could bare. If they hooked up, it might not work out (for many, many reasons) but at least Patrick would know. He just wanted to know if what he felt for David was real and moreover, if it was reciprocated. 

He went back to his laptop, saved the spreadsheet he’d been working on and took a deep breath before he opened the internet browser and typed in Sebastien's name. Most of the search results turned up his photography; which was selling for high prices at art galleries all over the world. How could Patrick compete with this guy? He was worldly and he was talented and he was handsome. He and David had a messy history, but that didn't stop David from running back into his arms as soon as he had the chance. 

He quickly descended down the Google rabbit hole as he often did when searching for pictures of David late at night. He cracked his knuckles and his neck before making the ill-advised decision to search for “David Rose & Sebastien Raine."

Thankfully there weren't many results, but it did bring up a Page Six article from several years prior about an art gallery opening featuring hot young artists; Sebastien was listed as number three. The caption underneath the photograph of Sebastien said he was dating David Rose, son of Rose Video Store magnate Johnny and soap opera actress Moira. The article was reposted by Buzzfeed. He clicked the search bar on the Buzzfeed homepage and searched for David's name alone. 

It quickly pulled up an article titled ‘Johnny Rose Has A _Really _Hot Son.' He scrolled through photo after photo of David as a teen and in his early twenties. How was it possible that David never had that super awkward, truly gawky stage? Sure, he was just a little too skinny in a few pictures; but he was young and he was tall – he hadn’t filled out yet. 

Going through each photo, Patrick’s chest felt tight. In the more recent pictures from his late 20’s, David had grown into himself. He’d established his unique sense of style; he’d lost the faux hawk. With a healthy amount of weight gained, his dimples were more obvious. He was gorgeous. Patrick could almost tell when David must have met Sebastien because he stopped smiling at the camera. Knowing that he almost stopped smiling all together hurt Patrick’s heart. He closed his laptop swearing at himself. 

He knew that wasn't going to help and it didn't. It never helped. He sat on his bed and thought for a few minutes before he jumped up and went to the bathroom to shower. If David was going to go out and get laid then by God, so was he. 

Freshly showered, cologned, shaved, wearing jeans and a freshly ironed button-down, he stomped downstairs and found Ray in the kitchen cooking along with Giada deLaurentiis. He lowered the volume on the kitchen TV before he spoke.

“Ooh! Going somewhere Patrick? You look nice.” 

“Ray, is there a bar around?” 

After an agonizingly long one-sided conversation, Ray directed him to the only bar in town, which Patrick could have easily found with a simple Google search but he didn’t trust himself with any more time using the search engine at that moment. 

He drove a few miles above the speed limit, angry, but not reckless, and within 20 minutes he was pulling into a parking spot in front of the bar. There were enough cars in the parking lot to give him reason for hope. There_ had _to be someone here who he could pass the evening with. He took a deep breath before he walked inside, headed directly for the bartender and ordered a double Crown Royal straight up. 

A soft voice caught his ear when he drained his drink halfway down. 

“You work at Ray’s, don't you? You've picked up his lunch order once or twice. You’re new in town, right?” 

He turned and recognized the waitress from the cafe though he couldn't remember her name off the top of his head. He knew it started with a T. 

“Yes. Well, no. I mean – I _ did _work for Ray but now I’m working with um...David. David Rose?” 

“Oh right, the general store. That’s nice. David is...unique.” She didn’t take long to search for the right word but Patrick could tell it was a little difficult for her to find something that sounded complimentary. He laughed, appreciating the effort she’d made. In their short association, he had come across a similar problem. 

“Twyla,” she offered her hand. 

“Yeah, Twyla. Hi. I’m Patrick.” He shook her hand and smiled. 

* * *

David looked at his reflection in the steamy bathroom mirror and combed product into his damp hair while he tried calming the nauseated feeling in his gut. He applied some of his under-eye serum and fanned his face with his hands until it dried, then he wrapped a towel around his waist and tracked wet footprints across the floor to the closet. All the while as he showered, David was contemplating his outfit. 

Whatever he wore under it, he knew he’d be wearing The Jacket; the black Italian leather jacket he had purchased at a boutique in Prague. His father had an array of bespoke power suits he’d wear to important meetings that let everyone know that Johnny Rose meant business as soon as he entered the room. The Jacket was David’s Xennial Power Suit, the rest of his ensemble was entirely immaterial. 

He pushed clothes hangers aside one by one while he grumbled quietly to himself. 

“What a fucking manipulative fucking asshole.” 

“Who does he think he is?” 

“Why does he have to be so hot?” 

“Stupid hair though. He has stupid hair.” 

“Why did Patrick seem upset when I told him my plan?” 

He paused and ran his thumb over the fabric of a t-shirt while he thought. 

_ Was Patrick upset? _

_ Why would he be? That’s dumb. _

_ Was he disappointed though? _

_ His texts were different. His tone… _

_ Great. Now I’m disappointing guys I’m not even sleeping with. _

David got dressed, and pursed his lips, irritated before he spritzed himself with his warm tobacco cologne. He held the bottle up to the light and whined; there wasn’t much left and he had no way of knowing when or even if he’d be able to buy himself more. He hated that he was wasting it on the likes of Sebastien. 

Before he left his room, he double-checked that there was a condom in his wallet and that it hadn’t expired. As he flipped it over to check the date stamp, a slip of paper fell to the floor. He crouched down to retrieve it. He pursed his lips seeing “B13” printed on the ticket. He sighed, unsure of why he had held onto it, yet he couldn’t get himself to throw it away. He tucked it into the credit card slot behind Patrick’s old business card, something else he chose to keep close for reasons he couldn’t verbalize. 

He cleared his throat and adjusted his dick over his pants before strolling towards the room where his two-timing ex was staying. He knocked and waited for Sebastien to appear. 

* * *

Patrick was on his second drink, a beer. He hadn’t eaten much that day and since there wasn’t much in his stomach to soak up the alcohol, he was having some difficulty keeping his eyes open and focused. Twyla hadn’t stopped talking long enough to really notice that she’d lost her audience but Patrick found the constant, pleasant hum of her voice comforting. 

“And what kind of asshole decides his partner shouldn’t smile? What kind of controlling horseshit is that?” He slurred his words but the sudden statement made Twyla stop what she’d been saying. 

“What?” She tilted her head and blinked three times. Her eyebrows came together and she was trying to figure out what about her childhood love of ice skating (which was the topic she was talking about) might have triggered his response. 

Patrick sobered up a bit looking at the confused expression on Twyla’s face. 

“I mean...um... As a guy, ya know...I want to be the reason the person I’m dating is smiling...at least one of the reasons they’re smiling.” 

“That’s very sweet, Patrick. I’m sure a lot of guys have smiled because of you.” Her breath caught in her throat and the color drained from her face. Patrick didn’t know how to respond. 

“That came out wrong, whoops!” She covered her mouth with both hands, feeling terrible about the faux pas. 

“It’s...fine,” he blushed. This was the first conversation he’d ever had which even indirectly alluded to his sexual orientation being anything other than straight. This sweet, flighty, perky, small-town waitress had spotted in a second what Patrick didn’t even know about himself until recently. His closest friends and family members hadn’t either. 

“I didn’t mean to imply -” she spoke with her hands still covering her mouth, muffling her voice. 

“No, it’s ok,” he shrugged and offered a small smile. 

“I totally didn’t mean to imply that you were like – a slut or something. I’m sure a completely normal, average, reasonable number of guys have smiled because of you.” Twyla’s delicate hands gently swished through the air as she talked. 

“It’s ok. Really, no offense taken. But, um...” Patrick looked down at the bar top. 

“But...you’re not gay?” She swirled her glass of chardonnay with a raised eyebrow. 

“Oh,” Patrick laughed. “No, I am. I’m gay.” 

Saying the words out loud, without fear of judgement was liberating in a way he couldn’t have anticipated. He felt the burden lift from his shoulders and as a result, found himself sober as a judge and able to exhale more thoroughly than ever before. 

“I thought so. My great-grandmother on my second stepdad’s side was a popular carnival psychic – everyone always said that I take after her. Not that it really takes a psychic,” she winked and smiled at him. 

Considering that it had taken nearly 30 years for Patrick to figure it out, he was genuinely curious how Twyla had known. She had a hard-to-read expression on her face; as if she was looking deep inside him, studying.

“Nobody else knows, huh?” She finished her drink and ordered another. 

Patrick’s eyes grew wide and she laughed heartily at his reaction. 

“No. Nobody does. I’ve never even said it out loud before. How did you know?” 

The bartender slid another glass of wine to her and pointed at Patrick. 

“You good, Bro? Want another Crown?” 

Patrick shook his head. “No thanks man. I’m good.” 

Twyla either ignored Patrick’s question or hadn’t been paying attention. She shifted on her bar stool and crossed her legs. 

“It’s not a bad thing, you know,” she said putting a hand on his bare forearm. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah – I know. I’m cool with it,” he replied. 

“No, I mean...having a secret. It’s ok to have secrets. If you decide to like, live ‘out loud’ or whatever,” she made air quotes by curling her long, thin fingers. “You’ll be accepted here. It’s a safe space.” 

Patrick felt emotional enough to cough and clear his throat to keep the tears back. He maintained his composure but a small squeak in his voice belied how he was feeling inside. 

“Thank you, Twyla. I appreciate it.” 

* * *

Back in Room Seven, Sebastien circled around David like a shark that smelled fresh blood in the water. 

“Maybe even physically,” he said. He kept his voice low as he explained wanting to 'explore David’s pain.' David felt Sebastien’s hot breath on his neck and smelled the cheap bay rum cologne that made his prick jerk awake in his pants. 

“Oh, well I shouldn’t,” he said softly. 

“Oh, you should,” Sebastien’s volume was quieter still. 

David knew very well what he was about to engage in; he’d walked into this room with a plan. Still, part of that plan mandated him putting up at least a soupçon of resistance. He pretended to relent. 

“Ok fine; but I can’t stay.” David's smirk developed into a smile. 

"Ooh, that's a new wrinkle," Sebastien said when they were face to face again. He traced a finger from the corner of David's eye. "I told you smiling made you look old.” 

Before David could come up with a retort, Sebastien growled and grinned at him like a predator looks at his prey. He crossed to the small countertop and pulled a bottle from his shoulder bag. David recognized it immediately and he almost swallowed his tongue. 

“Is...is that?” 

“The Macallan 1926? Yes.” Sebastien opened a cupboard and removed two dusty tumblers. 

“You remembered,” David said as he sat on the bed. It was both an amused question and a surprised statement. 

Sebastien popped the bottle open and grit his teeth as he gripped it by the bottom. He poured two drinks without rinsing the glasses. Given the brown tinge of the water that came out of the motel faucets, David doubted a little dust on the inside of a glass would have a worse effect on the taste of the scotch. 

“I remember everything, David.” He replaced the cap and handed David his drink. He sat on the bed and tapped his temple with two fingers. 

“Steel trap,” he commented. 

David nodded and sniffed the rust-colored liquid he’d last tasted at one of Sebastien’s show openings in Dubai. 

“Everything about that weekend was illicit,” Sebastien said as he sipped his drink and tickled his fingertip against the back of David’s head at his hairline. “From the sex to this delicious beverage you aren’t drinking.” He didn’t move his desirous dark eyes from David’s face. 

David felt a hot shudder up his spine and he took a sip. He sucked air between his teeth to soothe the burning sensation down his throat. The memories that flooded his brain were a blur of hiding in dark corners of an art gallery in the highly conservative UAE, making out like they’d die if they stopped. Sebastien sold most of the pieces he debuted. They did more than a little blow and fucked hard on a hotel bed covered in international currency. 

“You didn’t just pick this up at the local lickbo on the way into town,” David said before raising his glass to his lips again. 

“No. I had it on preorder from last year.” 

David took a longer sip and cocked one suspicious eyebrow. Sebastien grinned and turned away briefly. 

“I’ve been meaning to come photograph Moira for a while,” he leaned in closer. 

David slowly leaned closer and could almost taste Sebastien’s lips when he stopped and pulled away slightly. 

“You really just came to photograph my mother?” 

Sebastien cupped David’s cheek and pulled him into a long, slow, probing kiss. They came apart and he took David’s glass from his hand, carefully placing it on the nightstand next to his own. 

“You know me, David.” Sebastien stood and let his cardigan drop to the floor. “I always have an ulterior motive.” 

* * *

“What about him, Patrick? What do you think?” Twyla pushed her phone in front of his face. She’d been swyping through Tinder profiles with him in the bar’s back booth where they had retreated for the better part of an hour. 

“He’s not bad,” Patrick pouted out his lower lip slightly and shrugged a shoulder in a non-committal way. “I like his hair.” 

Twyla considered the dark short on the sides and meticulously sculpted length on top hairstyle Randy J. was sporting before she swyped right. 

“A match! Another match!” She tapped a shot glass on the table top and drank the tequila in a swift gulp. While she fanned her face and tried to recover from the burn, Patrick moved the bottle further away from her, knowing she probably wouldn’t refill the glass if she couldn’t reach it. 

“Aren’t you going to join me? Make a profile!” She elbowed him. 

“Nah, I’m not really looking for anyone right now,” Patrick said. 

“Because you have A Thing for David Rose...” she said, collapsing against his shoulder in a fit of giggles. 

_ Holy shit...is it that obvious? Maybe she is psychic. _

He smiled and rubbed the back of his neck as he replied. “Yeah, maybe I do.” 

“So... date him,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“He’s out of my league,” Patrick replied with another shrug. 

Twyla swatted at him but missed and somehow managed to hit herself in the eye. 

“You are_ nuts!_” She chuckled, holding one hand over her eye while it stopped watering. “You’re really quite fetching, Patrick. You’re a catch.” 

He blushed into his beer bottle as he took a sip. It was his third and final drink; one of then needed to be sober enough to drive back.

“Thanks Twyla. I might be a catch, but I’m probably a big ol’ chicken. I’m scared to ask him out.” 

After at least 45 seconds of clucking to tease him, and a hard cackle at her own sense of humor, Twyla took a deep breath and shook herself to a less drunken state. She reclined easily against Patrick’s shoulder and brushed the hair from in front of her face. 

“You just need to take him out on one great date,” Twyla said, deep in thought. 

Why this woman took such an interest in the predicament Patrick regrettably called his love life, he couldn’t imagine. At the same time, it was somewhat of a relief to be able to talk about it with someone. As a bonus, she might not even remember any of the nights’ revelations by morning. 

“What’s the best date you’ve ever been on, Patrick?” 

His stomach dropped at the question. There was absolutely no way he was going to tell Twyla about Rachel. He was not going to tell her about the night he proposed; the pink dahlias he brought her, the pale purple slip dress and strappy sandals she was wearing when he picked her up or the way he had to convince her to change clothes without revealing that the big surprise was skating at an indoor ice rink. 

He couldn’t tell Twyla about how everyone clapped and cheered when he got down on one knee at center ice or the way they laughed hysterically when Rachel got so excited that she slipped and plopped down on her ass in front of him before he could grab her. He couldn’t tell her that he knew he’d made a big mistake almost immediately. 

“Earth to Patrick – come in, Patrick...” Twyla’s voice jerked him back from his unwanted stroll down memory lane. She was waving her hand in front of his face. 

He cleared his throat and saw her trying to focus her eyes, she was the one getting sleepy. Very sleepy. 

“So, that was my best date,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t realize he hadn’t said anything out loud. “What was yours?” 

She looked confused for a second and her cheeks turned pink in embarrassment when she couldn’t remember a single detail about what Patrick had said. 

“That was really sweet, Patrick,” she said. He exhaled and uncrossed his fingers under the table. “My favorite date was when Mutt took me out for my birthday. Have you met Mutt?” 

Patrick didn’t have to think hard, he’d definitely remember meeting someone named Mutt. He shook his head. 

“Nope.” 

“Oh well. He’s my ex-boyfriend, the mayor’s son. “ 

_ Mutt Schitt? Jesus Christ, where the hell am I? _ Patrick thought with a chuckle. 

“He took me foraging for mushrooms – the edible ones – not the ‘magic’ kind,” she said with a wink. “Then we went back to my apartment and he made this incredible mushroom risotto, I’ve never tasted anything better.” 

“Sounds nice,” Patrick nodded. 

“I know it doesn’t really sound like much but, especially since I had to clean cow manure out from under my fingernails while he was cooking. But I hate my birthday and he knew that. He was still determined to make me feel special that day.” 

She took a long sip of his nearly forgotten beer and sighed. 

“Why do you hate your birthday?” Patrick asked. 

“Oh, well, when I was a kid, my dad...he was arrested on my birthday. It’s just like, a yearly reminder of that.” 

“God, Twyla – I'm sorry – I had no idea,” Patrick said sympathetically. He hated himself for being nosy. 

She waved him off. “No, it’s ok. He deserves to be in prison. It just, you know, it sucked.” 

Patrick put a supportive hand on hers. 

“I can’t imagine,” he said. 

She nodded with a soft smile and finished his beer for him. There was a long silence between them until Twyla perked up and shook his shoulder. 

“It’s almost David’s birthday, you know,” she said in a hushed voice. 

“Is it?” He tried to visualize the business license paperwork David had filled out – he knew his birthday was on there somewhere. 

“Yeah, it’s like...next week...or next month,” Twyla said narrowing her eyes as if trying to locate the information somewhere in her brain. “Last year, he came into the café, ordered three slices of cake to go I suspect that he sent Alexis back out to get him another slice before we closed. I think he hates his birthday as much as I do but since Mr. Rose isn’t in prison...I’m not sure why.” 

While Twyla was talking, Patrick became resolute in his immediate decision to ask David out to dinner for his birthday, whenever it might be. He’d have time to psych himself up for it. Inspiration struck him and he knew exactly what he’d give David as a gift. He was planning to frame the first sale receipt and surprise him with it the day after the projected opening but if his birthday really was so soon afterward, maybe it would be better as a birthday gift. 

He was lost deep in thought and Twyla was still offering possible reasons that David hated his birthday. 

“He’s not like, over the hill or anything, but maybe he just hates being single on his birthday. That feeling of ‘will I be alone forever?” Yikes. It makes me a little dizzy.” 

* * *

Sebastien moaned into David's mouth as they kissed. His hands were running up and down both sides of David’s back underneath his t-shirt and David was straddling his hips and grinding down hard. The scent of vintage Italian leather and tobacco turned Sebastien on as soon as he entered the motel room. 

David realized that his body wasn’t quite responding to Sebastien in the way he’d expected. The kissing felt good; very good, but every time he opened his eyes and saw his ex there, he felt a little disappointment. He rocked against Sebastien’s semi-hard dick wondering with horror where his own erection was. 

“Can I take my jeans off, David?” Sebastien purred against his neck. 

“Mmhmm,” he pushed himself off of Sebastien’s lap hoping that he hadn’t noticed David’s self-diagnosed impotence. 

Sebastien only blinked once before he pulled his t-shirt off. He grinned and turned his back to David as he unbuttoned his jeans. 

_ Those jeans remind me of someone. _David thought. 

“Aren’t these atrocious?” Sebastien asked, referring to the jeans with the Old Navy label. “I got them at a non-ironic thrift store. I’m surprised you’ve let me keep them on this long.” 

It struck David why they looked so familiar. He was almost positive they were the same ones Patrick was wearing that day. To his great surprise, even as Sebastien was letting them fall from his hips to the floor, his dick began to swell. 

“Patrick...” he whispered. 

“What was that?” Sebastien stepped out of the mid-range jeans and tossed them aside. He turned around and smirked to see David rubbing his cock over his own pants. 

“Nothing.” He stepped forward and grabbed Sebastien’s waist, pulling him in for a kiss. He took his lower lip between his teeth and Sebastien yelped. 

“Who’s Patrick?” The words vibrated against David’s neck. 

“Let’s not talk.” David responded. He closed his eyes and kissed Sebastien’s neck, running his tongue up behind his ear. 

“You sound almost disappointed,” Sebastien grinned slightly. “It’s been a while but I haven’t forgotten that night in the Maldives when you tied my wrists and made me beg for it.” His chest was flushed, splotches of pink spread across his freckled skin. 

“Shh...” David’s enthusiasm flagged just a little and he shook himself out of the rapidly developing fantasy he was creating about being manhandled by a shorter man in baby blue. 

“There’s nothing in my mouth, I don’t think I know how to stop talking,” Sebastien said, provocatively biting his lip. David grinned and applied a little bit of pressure to his shoulder until Sebastien was sitting on the creaky motel mattress. He unfastened David’s pants and kissed him over the fabric of his black boxer briefs. He looked up with hungry eyes as he tucked his fingers into the waistband and began to pull them down. David stopped him. 

“On your knees,” he said. 

* * *

Later on that evening Patrick pulled up in front of Twyla’s house. She’d gone quiet on the ride over and he assumed she’d fallen asleep but not before she’d given him her address. 

“Your destination is on the right,” the computerized voice said through his car speakers. Twyla turned her head and offered tired smile. 

“Thanks for the ride,” she touched his arm. 

“Not a problem, I wasn’t going to let you take a cab. Waste of money,” he replied. 

“Maybe I should have been more specific when I said I wanted to go home with a handsome stranger tonight,” she chuckled. 

He felt guilty almost immediately. Until that moment it hadn’t occurred to him that he had effectively cock-blocked her. She laughed and kissed his cheek. 

“I’m teasing, Patrick. I had fun with you,” she tapped her hand on the armrest. 

“I had fun, too,” Patrick smiled. “Thanks for listening.” 

“Everything you said stays with me, I promise. I’m very good at keeping secrets. Like, very good. Like, if Lily and James Potter told _me _where they were hiding, Harry wouldn’t have grown up an orphan. But then...the series wouldn’t have happened...but he'd have his parents...but...but...oh god, I’m so torn now...” She squeezed both palms to her own cheeks. 

Patrick laughed and pressed back into the headrest. “I’m glad I can count on you. And I’m going to ask David out for his birthday, whenever that is.” 

"It's in July, I'm almost positive," Twyla said in an inexpected moment of clarity.

"Oh shit," Patrick said with a sigh. July was right around the corner.

“You can’t back out now – you said it. It’s already out in the universe,” she wiggled her fingers around her face. 

“I promise I won’t.” 

They chatted for another minute or two before she hopped out of the car and he idled by the curb until she was safely inside. She flashed the porch lights twice and he waved even though he knew she couldn’t see him. 

* * *

“David I’m not holding out hope but is there a place to get late-night sushi around here?” Sebastien called through the bathroom door. 

David rolled his eyes and smashed the memory card under his boot again, jerking his heel back and forth like he was stomping out a cigarette. When he lifted his foot, he saw the wet spot it left on the carpet and lamented the wasted whisky. He'd tried to drown the memory card first. He picked it up from the floor and tucked it into his pants pocket. 

“No,” he replied simply, trying not to sound like he’d just destroyed all of the photos Sebastien had taken of his mother and god-only-knows what masterpieces might have been on the memory card along with them. 

Sebastien was all cleaned up and only wearing underwear when he reemerged from the bathroom. 

“You’re not leaving, are you?” He asked, seeing David had redressed. 

“I told you I couldn’t stay,” David hardened his glare. 

“Here’s the difference between me and whatever townie ass you’ve been getting since you moved here, David. Nobody walks out on me. So, stay.” He pushed the jacket from David’s shoulders. 

“Plus, you might get hungry in the middle of the night. I’d hate to have you creep back over here in the wee hours to knock on my door.” 

_ I have never and I will never be that desperate. _David declared to himself. 

All the same, it had been a while since he’d slept with someone’s arms around him. They might not be the thicker arms he wanted them to be, belonging to the man he was envisioning while he fucked Sebastien but better the wrong arms than none at all. Patrick wasn’t interested in him anyway. David played it cool and stripped down to his underwear, folding all of his clothes neatly and laying them out on the bureau. He went to the closet and found every hanger was full – each one held a sweater rattier (and more expensive) than the last. With a quick over-the-shoulder glance at the bed he saw that Sebastien was facing away from him. He shook the most expensive sweater off its hanger, letting it fall to the dirty carpet, then he kicked it. He hung his leather jacket on the hanger and slipped it into the closet. 

He realized he was exhausted by the time he rested his head on the pillow. He pressed his back into Sebastien’s chest and heard him huff out, as if annoyed. 

“You're forcing me be the big spoon?” 

“Excuse me? I’ve never _forced you _to do anything.” David started getting out of bed. 

“No, no, stay. I want to talk to you about something.” 

Annoyed, David lay back down. “So, talk.” 

“I need an assistant. Not a second camera but someone to keep my calendar, arrange my travel, carry my bags...” 

“You need a secretary?” David sniped. “What’s that got to do with me?” 

“Well I thought maybe you could...I mean, you don’t want to stay around here forever, do you? With your family? The David Rose I knew was deeply selfish, I barely recognize you anymore.” 

“That might be a good thing. Change is good,” David said a little defensively. He was insulted by the offer and more than a little surprised at how quickly his brain refused to let him even consider leaving town. Patrick's face flashed before his eyes and he wished to any deity who might be paying attention to be in bed with him instead of Sebastien. 

“You don’t change, David. The sun, the stars...the Earth’s gravitational pull – that stuff will change long before you will.” 

The skunk in designer sheep’s clothing might be correct but David would never admit that. 

“Do something for yourself, David,” Sebastien was almost pleading. 

“You know what? I did. I did do something for myself tonight.” 

“Might I ask what?” Sebastien queried. 

“Good night.” 

* * *

Patrick stared at the ceiling until at least 2:30 in the morning. His phone rested on his chest and he’d given up on hearing from David. He put a giant red circle around the entire month of July on his wall calendar – he promised himself he wasn’t going to wait any longer. He just hoped that David was still single when the day came. He had to force himself not to imagine what was going on behind the door of Sebastien’s motel room.

He had no way of knowing that David was also awake thinking about him; wishing that he had a chance – wishing that what Alexis and Stevie had both said was true. Even with Sebastien laying behind him, his breath soft and even on the back of his neck, he was still thinking about walking into the store and seeing Patrick smile at him, then kissing him good morning, when he finally fell asleep with a big, sincere smile on his face. 


End file.
